


Home

by Gizzwhizz



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Prompto's mom has bad boyfriends, Troubled Home Life, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizzwhizz/pseuds/Gizzwhizz
Summary: Prompto finds himself unable to go home, and with Noct's apartment not an option Ignis decides to step in and offer him a place to stay.For Promnis Week Day 1.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> For Promnis Week prompt: "Can I take a picture of you like this?"
> 
> This was supposed to be three pages of fluff and instead turned into 11 pages of...this. I've gone from hating it to loving it over the last two weeks so hopefully you guys enjoy it. Thanks to [SunshineandSnark](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark) for listening to me gripe and cheering me on to get this thing finished!

It wasn’t really a fight. Not as far as Prompto was concerned anyway. A fight would have required two participants. It was something closer to a lecture that drove him out of his mother’s cramped house with his camera and an overnight bag. His mother had never had the greatest taste in men, but usually they waited at least a few weeks before starting in on him. New Guy (Prompto couldn’t quite bring himself to remember if his name was Kurt or Kirk) had been to their house exactly three times. 

Prompto had come home from his shift at the coffee shop and found him nursing a beer at the kitchen table, which meant he already had a key since his mother wouldn’t even be off work herself for a few hours yet. Wonderful. Prompto had barely been through the door before New Guy, who clearly wasn’t on his first beer, had started in on him. 

He was 18 and graduated. What was he doing working part time at a coffee shop? Why was he still mooching off of his mother? Why didn’t he have a real job and his own place? Why not go to college? Or try for the Crownsguard? He was friends with the Crowned Prince, wasn’t he? And, by the way, what exactly was that about? How could the so-called-Prince’s-best-friend let his mother toil away like this? 

None of it was new. It was said in a new voice, perhaps, but he’d heard it all before. So it was only a moment’s decision to duck into his room and retreat as quickly as possible, headed on foot for Noct’s apartment. It would take him nearly an hour to reach Noct’s, but by then the urge to punch a wall would have faded into something he could more easily disguise behind a grin and a few bad jokes. 

He’d been running to Noct’s like this since they were 16, but Noct always let him crash and rarely asked questions. That was the kind of friendship they had. He didn’t ask about the King, and Noct never pressed him about his own home life. Over the years he had almost said something a dozen times, but always lost his nerve in the end. Their mutual agreement to ignore everything outside their own shared world wasn’t something that either of them was willing to violate. Not yet, anyway. 

When he got off the train at the stop closest to Noct’s apartment, he pulled his phone out to text his friend and found a message waiting for him. 

 

From Mom:

 _Sorry, sweetie. I’ll talk to him, but maybe give him a few days to cool off? <3_

 

Prompto stopped beneath a streetlamp and stared at his phone for several moments. Why should he be banished from his own home just because Creep-of-the-Week had thrown a fit? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t even responded to the insults being hurled at him, completely unprovoked he might add. 

For a moment his finger hovered over the button to call his mother. It stayed there after the screen had dimmed and finally gone dark. She was on shift, and besides, calling her wouldn’t do any good. She would only take his side. 

_‘No, she’s not taking any side,’_ he corrected himself. _‘That’s the problem.’_

Shaking his head, he unlocked his phone again and texted Noct that he was coming over. His overnight bag had a few days’ worth of clothes, plus his work shirt, so staying away wouldn’t be hard. He just hoped Noct wouldn’t mind him couch surfing for longer than usual. Not that he hadn’t spent up to a week at his friend’s apartment before. 

“It’s open!” Noct’s voice called when Prompto knocked on his door. The easy familiarity of his friend’s voice did wonders for his mood as he pushed the door opened and kicked his shoes off in the hall. 

“Dude. You _are_ the Prince. Don’t you think maybe you should, like, lock your door sometimes? I could have been an assassin or something,” Prompto called.

 “Knocking on your victim’s door would make you a very ineffectual assassin,” a polished voice remarked from the kitchen. Prompto grinned as he wandered into the apartment and found Ignis at the stove. 

“Hey, Iggy,” Prompto greeted, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. He had always liked Ignis, but over the last year or so his feelings had begun to grow into an honest-to-goodness crush. Just as he and Noct never talked about their families, however, his blossoming crush was likewise on the list of Things We Shall Never Discuss. Besides, even though he’d known the chamberlain for as long as he’d known Noct, they had never spent time together without the aforementioned Prince and there were days when Prompto honestly couldn’t tell if Ignis even liked him or merely tolerated him for Noct’s sake. 

For a brief moment the criticisms of an hour ago washed over him again, but he forced them away. Ignis did seem to genuinely enjoy his company, as far as Prompto could tell, and had never been more than momentarily irritated with him. So there was hope, as long as he kept his mouth shut. 

“Good evening, Prompto. Staying for dinner, I take it?” Ignis asked without looking up from the pan he was working over the gas flame. He kept his entire focus on the cut of fish he was frying, his face a study in angles with the force of his concentration. The effect was only heightened by the fact that his sleeves were rolled neatly to the elbows and the new hair style he’d been trying recently that swept his hair straight up and left him looking older and more severe than he really was. It really was a good look for him. 

“Yeah…if that’s alright?” Prompto hedged, setting his bag down. His camera was in his hand before he realized it and he bit his lip, fiddling with the focus. “Hey, this might sound weird, but…can I…take a picture of you like this?” 

Ignis glanced up, but his eyes were obscured somewhat by the glare of the kitchen lights reflected in his glasses. Prompto swallowed and immediately wished he could take the words back. All of the confidence that Ignis’ mere presence had restored fled like water down a drain. Before he could get out another word, however, Ignis had turned back to his work and hummed lightly. 

“I don’t see why not,” he replied. Prompto just stared at him for moment, too surprised to react. 

“What do you want a picture of Specs for?” Noct’s sudden question almost made Prompto drop his camera. Somehow, he managed not to fumble his most precious possession onto the floor. Knowing his face must be practically glowing, Prompto chose to hide it behind the viewfinder. 

“I dunno…Iggy just always has this certain look when he’s cooking. Like, focused and relaxed at the same time? It’s hard to explain,” Prompto mumbled as he snapped a few shots. 

“Whatever,” Noct shrugged, purposefully blocking Prompto’s shot to grab two sodas from the fridge. “Speaking of Assassin’s, you’re just in time.” 

“You got the new Aassassin’s Creed?” Prompto asked without much surprise, lowering his camera to accept the soda that Noct passed to him. Ignis hadn’t said another word, but Prompto promised to help with the dishes anyway before following Noct into the living room.

* * *

Three days later, Prompto was finishing up his shift at the coffee shop when he felt his phone vibrate.

 

From Noct:

_Got roped into a meeting at the Citadel and Gladio wants to train at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow. Just gonna crash here tonight. You good?_

 

Prompto bit his lip as he read over the text. His mother still hadn’t given him the all clear to come home and now Noct wouldn’t be at the apartment. Before he could let his mind run too far with that train of thought, his phone buzzed again.

 

From Noct:

_Specs can let you in to get your stuff. He has to stop by around 5 anyway._

 

Prompto tapped out a quick thanks without reading it and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Maybe, once he was inside he could talk Ignis into letting him stay. Prompto was terrible at lying and couldn’t begin to imagine what argument he could make without at least hinting at the truth, but it was a starting point at least. 

Nearly an hour later, Prompto was sitting on the steps to Noct’s apartment no closer to coming up with a plausible excuse as to why he would need to stay on Noct’s couch when Noct himself wasn’t even home. He was still dressed in his work clothes as he hunched over on the cold concrete steps, clicking through photos on his camera. He paused as he came to the shots he’d taken a few nights ago of Ignis cooking fish filets in Noct’s kitchen. 

He’d managed to get three shots in before the Prince had interrupted him. As he went through them, however, Prompto paused and clicked the back button. The first two photos were nearly identical. But the third…Prompto brought the camera closer to his face and clicked between the second and third photo a few more times, eyes widening as he did a quick assessment of the room’s lighting. When he was sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, he straightened and stared down at his camera. 

In the third photo Ignis was blushing. 

He wasn’t tomato red the way that Prompto got when he blushed. It was hardly that noticeable at all, really. He might not even have even realized it if he hadn’t had two other shots to compare it to. But there was no denying that Ignis’ high cheeks were certainly rosier in the third picture than in any of the others. 

“Ah. Good evening, Prompto.” 

Prompto jerked upright at the sound of his name, only to curl back into a ball as the back of his head bounced off the steps’ metal railing. He hissed and clamped both hands over the back of his head, stamping one foot against the concrete. 

“Are you quite all right?” Ignis asked. Prompto could only whimper, his entire body still taunt with pain. A moment later there were warm hands on his, gently but firmly prying them away from his head. He blinked wetly at his own palms while Ignis carefully felt his scalp. At least there wasn’t any blood. 

“I’m fine,” Prompto managed to mutter, wincing as Ignis prodded the bump that was steadily forming on the back of his head. 

“You’re sure?” Ignis asked. His hands left Prompto’s hair, but before he could even register the loss there were elegant fingers on his chin, tilting his head up. Ignis’ face was only inches from his own, the older man peering intently into Prompto’s eyes. “Any dizziness or nausea?” 

“N-nah, man I’m good,” Prompto said with a laugh that stuttered out of his chest. “You know me. I’m just a klutz, that’s all.” He almost rubbed the back of his head, but flinched away just in time. Ignis regarded him with a critical eye for a moment longer before straightening from where he had crouched beside Prompto on the stairs. 

“You’ll want to put some ice on that,” he said, offering a hand to help Prompto up. “Up you get. I doubt his Highness has any, but it couldn’t hurt to check.” 

“Y-yeah,” Prompto mumbled, and if he wasn’t blushing before he definitely was now as Ignis’ warm hand closed around his and helped haul him to his feet. The world remained stationary, thankfully, and he shot Ignis a smile to let him know that he was indeed alright. “So,” he began as he followed Ignis up the stairs, “what super important thing did Noct forget that sent you on a ‘fetch quest’ for him?” 

Ignis laughed lightly at the choice of words as he led them into the elevator. As soon as it moved, Prompto found himself clinging to the railing as the throbbing in his head increased. He tried his best to make it look casual, though, crossing his legs even as he gripped he railing hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 

“Really, Prompto, you make picking up Noct’s forgotten paperwork sound far too exciting.” Ignis was smiling just a bit and Prompto immediately wanted to take another picture, but then the elevator stopped and he was stumbling out of it after Ignis. A firm hand on his shoulder steadied him and he smiled sheepishly up at Ignis’ concerned frown. 

“Okay, so maybe my brains got a little rattled after all,” he admitted with his best innocent grin. Ignis didn’t answer but kept his hand on Prompto’s shoulder as he led the way to Noct’s apartment. Once inside, he pointedly steered Prompto to a kitchen chair before checking the freezer. He shut the door with the sharp click of tongue against teeth. 

“I thought not. Apologies,” he said and Prompto was a bit surprised at the sincerity in his voice. 

“It’s fine,” Prompto assured him. “It’s just a bump on the head, dude. Don’t worry about it.” Ignis gave him a look that was almost sharp, but before Prompto could wonder if he’d somehow made the Advisor angry, the taller man had already turned away to gather up the documents left in a careless heap on the kitchen counter. Prompto worried his bottom lip as he watched Ignis reorder the papers. He still hadn’t come up with a good excuse to stay at the apartment. At least, not one that wouldn’t raise several uncomfortable questions. 

“Bump or not, I don’t think it’s wise for you to be alone after hitting your head like that,” Ignis said as he turned back to Prompto. “Shall I give you a ride home?” 

Prompto opened his mouth and closed it again. 

_‘Come on, think. Quick!’_

“Well…I mean…If you don’t think I should be alone then…maybe home isn’t really the best place?” he said slowly, uncertainty turning the statement into a question. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Even if there wasn’t the current problem of his mother’s latest lurker, it would still be hours before her shift ended at the hospital. Even Noct knew how erratic her schedule was and that Prompto could go days without ever seeing her at home. Ignis stared at him quietly for a moment, and then a moment more until Prompto had to fidget and look away. 

_‘Don’t ask me,’_ he thought desperately, twisting his fingers in his lap. _‘Just don’t. Please.’_

“Very well, then. I’m afraid Noct’s rooms in the Citadel require a certain level of security clearance, but you are welcomed to come to my flat if you’d prefer.” Prompto’s gaze shot back to Ignis but he wasn’t looking at the blond, green eyes fixed on the papers in his hand instead. 

“I…Iggy you don’t have to…” he started, and this time he did forget and push his fingers into his hair, only to hiss as they brushed the angry bump rising on the back of his skull. “I mean, it’s not like…” 

_‘…it’s not like we’re friends.’_

And they weren’t. Not really. They had known each other for years, sure, but how many times had they even interacted without Noct? Three or four times, max, including now? 

“It would put my mind at ease,” Ignis offered and for a moment Prompto could only stare at him The Advisor was only saying that to make him feel better, he was sure of it. He was _sure_. But…why? 

“Okay. Sure.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up and for a horrifying second Prompto wondered what he was even agreeing to. But either his emotions didn’t show on his face or Ignis didn’t notice as he strolled past Prompto, pausing only to tuck the documents under one arm as he bent to scoop up Prompto’s overnight bag in the hall. 

“I-I can get that,” Prompto called as he hurried after him, but Ignis only locked the door to Noct’s apartment and led the way down the hall. He passed the elevator this time, however, leaving Prompto hovering near it looking like a lost puppy. 

“Iggy?” he said, shifting from foot to foot in front of the elevator. 

“I thought the stairs might better suit your head,” Ignis said as he pushed a door opened and held it. “Unless you think seven floors is too much for you to handle?” 

Prompto stared. Ignis wasn’t smiling, not with his lips anyway. Even so, there was a gleam in his eye that Prompto had never seen there before. It wasn’t malicious but more like…teasing? Prompto’s mouth went dry. If he didn’t know better, and he certainly did, he might even think Ignis was _flirting_ with him. 

Prompto shook his head quickly to clear the thought away and regretted it immediately as dull pain spread across the back of his skull. Forcing himself not to wince he looked back at Ignis and smiled. 

“I think I can handle it,” he announced, though the words came out saucier than he intended. Ignis chuckled like it was all some private joke and warmth flooded Prompto’s cheeks. All he could do was force his feet towards the stairs, wondering if he really did have a concussion after all.

* * *

The drive was a bit of a blur. Prompto had gotten rides from Ignis before, of course, but never when their destination was Ignis’ own apartment. Ignis’ building turned out to be halfway between the Citadel and Noct’s building, an arrangement that must have been purposeful. Prompto drifted into the building after Ignis in a bit of a daze, not bothering to argue when Ignis chose the stairs and led the way to the fourth floor. 

He wasn’t surprised to find Ignis’ apartment immaculate. More than that, though, it felt empty somehow. Not unlike how Prompto’s own home felt when his mom was at work and between boyfriends. For the first time he found himself wondering how much time Ignis actually spent at his apartment. 

He let himself be led to the sofa and a few moments later a bag of ice was being pressed into his hand. 

“Thanks, man,” Prompto said, carefully pressing the bag against the back of his head. 

“You are most welcome,” Ignis replied. “I’m afraid the fridge is more barren than I had anticipated. Is take away all right with you?” 

“Oh, dude, of course. You don’t have to cook for me,” Prompto said quickly, jostling his ice in the process. 

“Nonsense. You are my guest, Prompto,” Ignis said, but Prompto was already shaking his head and letting the ice slip onto the couch beside him. 

“You guys are just too nice to tell me to go home, that’s all,” Prompto chuckled. “Just order whatever you like. I’m not picky.” 

Instead of responding, Ignis sat beside him on the couch, angling himself to face Prompto and knocking their knees together in the process. Prompto dropped his gaze to their knees automatically, only partially to avoid meeting Ignis’ calculated stare. 

“Prompto,” Ignis began and then cleared his throat. Prompto felt his eyes being drawn inexorably upwards. He had never heard Ignis sound hesitant. Ignis met his eyes for only a moment before shifting to stare at something over Prompto’s shoulder. Then he took his glasses off and shook a cloth from his pocket to polish the lenses. 

“I do not wish to pry, and you need not answer me if you’d prefer not to, but you have been at Noct’s for several days and I had begun to wonder…did something happen? Something that’s keeping you from going home?” 

Prompto felt his mouth go dry. There it was. The Thing he and Noct never talked about. The secret by omission that was his home life. Rather than the panic he had expected, however, something else bubbled up in Prompto’s chest and stung behind his eyes. Something like relief. 

Gods, _finally_ , someone had asked. 

He blinked suspiciously wet eyes, but not quick enough to banish the threatening tears before Ignis replaced his glasses. It seemed like a dozen emotions flitted across Ignis’ face at once, empathy and sadness and something like anger among them. Then he was standing in one cool motion. 

“I’ll order us something, shall I?” 

Prompto’s hand shot out before he could think and latched onto one elegant wrist as Ignis tried to pass him. The chamberlain stopped in his tracks. He didn’t try to pull out of Prompto’s grip so the blond held on, rubbing his thumb unconsciously across flawless skin while he stared at his own mismatched socks. There was a hole in one toe, he noticed absently. 

“The truth is…” He stopped, swallowed and started again a bit quieter this time. “The truth is my mom has shitty taste in men, okay? She has a type…a shitty, drunken, self-centered type. None of them have ever gotten physical or anything but…none of them have ever really liked me all that much either. Maybe it’s because I’m so obviously an outsider—I don’t know. They just never like me. And her newest guy doesn’t either. He made it pretty clear he doesn’t want me around at all, actually, and my mom’s lonely. And kinda desperate, alright? So when she asked me to give them some space I said okay…” 

His grip loosened and he let his fingers fall away from Ignis’ wrist. He stared at his hands laying limp in his lap for a moment until his vision began to blur again and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“And I’ve been waiting all week for her to call me or text me and tell me she dumped him and I can come home. Because I was stupid enough to think that just once she’d pick me…just this once. Why doesn’t she ever pick me?!” He snapped his mouth shut as soon as he realized how loud he’d gotten and fisted the stiff material of his jeans. The next few seconds were deathly quiet, punctuated only by his own rapid breathing. Then he felt twin warm weights settle over his hands. 

Prompto squinted and found Ignis’ hands covering his own. He had never seen them up close before, but now he could see that the long fingers were crisscrossed with tiny scars. Likely the remnants of cooking mishaps just as much as training with the Crownsguard. Prompto kept his head down, but he could see enough to tell that Ignis was kneeling before him once again, just as he had on the steps to Noct’s apartment. 

“Prompto,” Ignis finally said after a small eternity. As though tugged up by a string, Prompto finally raised his head at the sound of his name and found earnest green eyes gazing at him. “Thank you, for telling me the truth. And I won’t mention it to Noct if you’d prefer not.” 

“Please,” Prompto whispered, hoarse as if he’d been screaming for hours. 

“Then you have my word.” Ignis said solemnly. Prompto blinked at him and managed to find the strength for a small smile. 

“Thanks, Iggy,” he whispered. Ignis only nodded, but he made no move to get up. Prompto fought the urge to squirm from the close proximity. 

“Prompto,” Ignis finally said, moving one of his hands to push his glasses up his nose. The other hand remained firmly in place over Prompto’s. “I hope you do realize that there are those of us who would gladly pick you.” Ignis’ gaze had wandered somewhere to the right again, making his expression impossible to read. 

“Oh…y-yeah,” Prompto said with a quick laugh. “You mean like Noct? Yeah, I know that.” He laughed again, but it died after only a few seconds as Ignis seemed to stiffen at the words. Prompto frowned and began to open his mouth, but never got the chance to speak. 

Instead, Ignis muttered a quick, “Oh, bloody hell,” and kissed him. 

Every muscle in Prompto’s body seemed to lock all at once. He sat, stiff and unresponsive, as Ignis pressed their lips together. The Advisor’s lips were softer than Prompto might have imagined, warm and smooth. Prompto’s eyes were wide and staring, but Ignis had closed his behind his glasses. For just an instant he pressed harder against Prompto’s lips, more insistent, and tightened his grip on Prompto’s hands. When Prompto still didn’t respond, however, he sighed through his nose. The rush of hot air tickled Prompto’s cheek. 

“Apologies,” Ignis muttered, as he pulled back. He released Prompto’s hands to fiddle with his glasses and then all at once he was standing. Ignis said something about ordering food and started walking towards the kitchen. 

Prompto didn’t remember moving. He vaguely registered the damp crunch of the ice bag falling to the floor, but he couldn’t recall getting up. The next thing he remembered was pressing Ignis against the wall, his body fitting perfectly against the taller man’s, and crushing their mouths together. Prompto’s kiss held none of the gentleness Ignis’ had possessed. His was all teeth and warm tongues and as much desperation as Prompto had ever poured into a single action. 

For his part, Ignis didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment. He wrapped his long arms around Prompto and returned the nearly rabid kiss with equal enthusiasm. Feeling Ignis reciprocate sent electricity shooting through Prompto’s limbs and down his spine. He couldn’t be sure if he whimpered out loud, but if he did Ignis accepted the noise the same way he’d accepted everything else. When they finally broke apart, Prompto wasn’t the only one panting for breath. Ignis’ glasses were fogged, making him look more enigmatic than ever, and suddenly Prompto realized he was trembling. Worse, his eyes were watering and he ducked his head quickly, pressing his forehead into Ignis’ shoulder. 

For a moment they stayed that way, simply catching their breaths and holding one another. 

“Prompto?” Ignis finally whispered, shattering the fragile silence. Instead of responding, Prompto squeezed his eyes shut and fisted the fabric of Ignis’ perfectly ironed shirt. Prompto heard his name again, whispered a bit lower this time and felt fingers brush his cheek, but he only shook his head without raising it. 

He didn’t want to speak or let go. Doing either of those things felt like breaking a spell. Once it was broken, he’d have to face reality again, and the consequences of what he had just done. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He just wanted to stay in this warm world where he had kissed Ignis and felt Ignis kiss him back and nothing needed to be any more complicated than that. Eventually, though, he forced his fingers to uncurl from Ignis’ wrinkled shirt and dropped his hands at his sides. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. He tried to take a step back, but Ignis still had one arm hooked firmly around him and refused to let go. 

“Whatever are you apologizing for?” Ignis asked, and Prompto couldn’t stop a shiver as he felt Ignis’ warm breath rustle his hair. “I kissed you first, after all.” 

Prompto blinked and counted the stripes on Ignis’ shirt for a beat before tilting his head up at last. Ignis’ glasses had cleared and he was watching Prompto with an odd mixture of amusement and concern in his eyes. And something else too. Something that Prompto might have called lust if he was feeling at all charitable towards himself, which he wasn’t. 

“Yeah, but, Iggy,” Prompto whispered. His voice sounded rough and ready to crack, his throat tight and sore, but at least his eyes were dry. “I’m a mess. My life is a garbage fire. I can’t even go home! And you…you’ve got your shit together and you’re perfect and gorgeous and way out of my league and for the love of the Six why am I still taking?” Again, he tried to pull away, face burning now, and again Ignis’ arm remained a steel band holding him in place. 

“To begin with I’ll be the judge of who, precisely, is in my league, thank you very much,” Ignis said coolly, and then his edges seemed to soften somehow and he brought his free hand up to cup Prompto’s cheek. “And you are far too hard on yourself, Prompto. You are beautiful inside and out: kind, caring, and remarkably resourceful.” 

Prompto could swear he could feel his heart thudding against his breastbone. 

“You don’t think I’m pathetic, hiding out from my mom’s boyfriend like this?” 

“No, I don’t think you’re pathetic,” Ignis said firmly, though Prompto winced as his own words were repeated. Ignis held his gaze as he continued, “I think you are a son who wants his mother to be happy and for whatever reason you’ve decided that goal is best accomplished if you are elsewhere right now. I can’t say I fully agree, but I do understand, Prompto.” Ignis broke eye contact just long enough to lay a kiss on Prompto’s forehead. His lips were still warm and wet. “You’re the type of person who will do anything for the people you love. How could I do anything but admire that?” 

Prompto’s heart gave a ridiculous lurch at the word “love” and he shivered again. Mouth gone suddenly dry, he tried to wet his lips with his sandpaper tongue. 

“Hey Iggy,” he whispered, “Do you think I could lie down for a bit?” 

“Of course,” Ignis said, somehow making the words sound like an apology. “Is it your head?” 

For a second Prompto wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but then he registered the continued dull ache across the back of his skull for the first time in minutes and let out a quick, high laugh. 

“Yeah well…it’s a lot of things,” he admitted quietly. Then, with his eyes fixed firmly on the top button of Ignis’ shirt he took another deep breath. “And…do you think you could lay with me for a little while?” 

He felt like a child asking to sleep with his parents after a nightmare, but of curse he’d never actually done that, preferring to curl into a ball and stare at the ceiling rather than bother his mother. 

“Of course,” Ignis said again. Prompto expected to be led back to the couch, but instead he found himself being half dragged down the hall to a bedroom that was as pristine and untouched as the rest of the apartment. He was too surprised to feel nervous and simply let himself be guided to lay down on top of the covers. The mattress was sinfully soft, a far cry from Noct’s couch. Then it dipped as Ignis joined him and Prompto’s body once again seemed to move without his permission. He wrapped himself around the Advisor’s warmth and resting his head on Ignis’ compact chest. If the position made Ignis uncomfortable, it didn’t show in the steady heartbeat that fluttered against Prompto’s ear. 

“Thanks,” Prompto whispered, thought he couldn’t say what he was actually thanking Ignis for. For laying with him or kissing him or maybe just for letting him stay in the first place. It was hard to say. 

“You are most welcome,” Ignis replied, his voice rumbling in his chest under Prompto’s ear. He sighed and closed his eyes. In a while they would have to get up. Ignis would order food and they’d talk. About everything. About Prompto’s home life, if Ignis wanted, and about his mom’s boyfriend. And more importantly about their kiss and what they were doing now. Prompto’s insides twisted at the thought of having that particular conversation. But then again, Ignis had kissed him first, as he himself had pointed out. 

For now, though, he was content to spend the next fifteen or so minutes in the small paradise of Ignis’ arms, feeling warm and safe and at home for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long.


End file.
